Red Dawn Rising
by Emily Bowden
Summary: A big part of me believed in our government and that our rights would be protected. That no citizen would be sought after or singled out. We lived in the land of the free, and I was thankful to raise our three boys on the soil our forefathers fought so hard to give us all. I was a proud American. So when they came for my husband, I'd been proven a fool.
1. Chapter 1

This story was inspired at 2am on Feb 4th after a disturbing conversation with my husband. After the ability to sleep had completely evaded me, I felt this story coming to life in my head.

It will consist of short chapters and will update frequently. There will be short chapters introducing legislation vital to this story. PLEASE READ THEM CAREFULLY. These are REAL laws enacted by our elected officials. I will have the site in which I found the information on my profile page for your consideration. I will also post blog posts and discussion I've found on the internet concerning this story, as well as some controversial matter. Please, read and draw your own conclusions.

I welcome you to this story, and keep in mind, this is fiction. However, I see a very scary pattern. For those readers in other countries, I'm excited to hear your opinion on these matters.

Please, Enjoy!

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><p>111th CONGRESS<p>

1st Session

**H. R. 645**

IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

January 22, 2009

Mr. Hastings of Florida introduced the following bill; which was referred to the Committee on Transportation and Infrastructure, and in addition to the Committee on Armed Services, for a period to be subsequently determined by the Speaker, in each case for consideration of such provisions as fall within the jurisdiction of the committee concerned

**A BILL**

To direct the Secretary of Homeland Security to establish national emergency centers on military installations.

1.

Short title

This Act may be cited as the National Emergency Centers Establishment Act.

2.

Establishment of national emergency centers

(a)

In general

In accordance with the requirements of this Act, the Secretary of Homeland Security shall establish not fewer than 6 national emergency centers on military installations.

(b)

Purpose of national emergency centers

The purpose of a national emergency center shall be to use existing infrastructure—

(1)

to provide temporary housing, medical, and humanitarian assistance to individuals and families dislocated due to an emergency or major disaster;

(2)

to provide centralized locations for the purposes of training and ensuring the coordination of Federal, State, and local first responders;

(3)

to provide centralized locations to improve the coordination of preparedness, response, and recovery efforts of government, private, and not-for-profit entities and faith-based organizations; and

(4)

_**to meet other appropriate needs, as determined by the Secretary of Homeland Security.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

The first time I saw something about the camps it had been on one of those conspiracy shows with a former wrestler turned governor serving as the host. He had his deep, menacing voice added a sense of foreboding on any topic. This time, the show had been about how the government had enacted a bill approving funds to build these campgrounds that were designated for FEMA.

The show had produced evidence of these camps in places like Texas, except they didn't appear to be any type of disaster relief centers. The grounds were surrounded by tall, stone walls laced with double-layered barbed wire, keeping whatever was supposed to be housed inside trapped much like a state prison. In one clip, they showed a small playground built for children on one side, and even evidence of what appeared to be several black coffins being taken out of the building and loaded into a nearby van. The show had even found stacks of these coffin liners. Hundreds of them, stored just outside where the camps were maintained.

These camps were ideally located near train stations and airports, perfect for smuggling people in, or out, at night. Producers of the show even went as far as to say they resembled something close to modern day concentration camps, perhaps something that could be used to detain US citizens that didn't agree with its government policies and laws.

Scary thought, but still, I didn't pay much attention to it. After all, the atrocities from World War II had been a lesson for all of mankind. No one would get behind such nonsensical violence.

Certainly not in America.

My husband, Jacob, had been saying for years that he believed there would be some type of government power play, where we the people would be forced to stand against the greedy leaders to take back control of our county and lead it towards the ideals it had once been founded under. I'd listen to him rant and rave on most nights, telling me that he felt it was coming.

That our freedom was in jeopardy.

Most nights I didn't believe his assessments were all that accurate, even though the laws our leaders had been passing were suspicious. On that show, producers had approached on of the Congressmen who'd signed off on the building of the FEMA camps. At first, he denied they even existed. He said that is was a _theoretical_ part of the legislation; that no camps existed yet. At that point, he was provided the footage the show had caught of the" non-existent" camps. When asked again what they were for he said they were designed disaster relief and nothing more.

But why the barbed wire? Why the stock piles of coffin liners? Why the playground in the middle of what looked like a prison ward?

And why didn't he know that they had not only been built, but were fully operational, as far as the footage could glean?

In the end, the Congressmen acknowledged that he hadn't read the bill. That he'd just signed off on it without garnering every detail and what it would mean for the American people if it were to be enacted into law.

Even if the show had been a farce, learning that detail severely hampered my belief in our elected officials.

Still, a big part of me believed in our government and that our rights would be protected. That no citizen would be sought after or singled out. We lived in the land of the free, and I was thankful to raise our three boys on the soil our forefathers fought so hard to give us all.

I was a proud American.

I'd been prideful.

I'd been secure in my country.

So when they came for my husband, I'd been proven a fool to believe we were immune.

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><p><strong>Link to the video mentioned here is on my profile. <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

This is a blog post written in regards to the Common Sense Gun Law #4. PLEASE READ CAREFULLY. I will have the site in which I found the information on my profile page for your consideration. Please, read and draw your own conclusions.

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><p>Common Sense Gun Law #4: Limit Ammunition Sales<p>

**The news that James Holmes bought 6,000 rounds of ammunition on the Internet, with no questions asked and no reporting to the police, was disturbing to many people. Some have suggested there be a limit on how much ammunition a person can buy. Others suggested that large ammunition orders be reported to the authorities.**

**The first suggestion is problematic for the same reason gun registration and one-gun-a-month laws are political non-starters and should be worrying to civil libertarians: Limiting ammunition sales would require somebody to keep track of how much ammunition an individual is buying. That means a database — the government keeping track of who has what. Nothing is more abhorrent to gun guys, so expect a titanic fight over it, and those who care about civil liberties and excessive police power should be uncomfortable with it as well. **

Baum, Dan. "Common Sense Gun Law #4: Limit Ammunition Sales." _Our Gun Thing. _15 August 2012.

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><p><strong>I'm blown away by your comments. It's kinda scary that we seem to all be seeing the same patterns in this country, right? <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Two

"Mike, go get your brothers and have them come was up for dinner!" I wiped my flour-caked hands on a nearby dish towel, trying to keep some of it out of my hair this time.

I'd just threw the freshly made rolls into the oven, awaiting my husband's arrival home from fishing all day with my father, Charlie. The boys had stayed home this time because they were grounded. Mike had two D's in both Biology and American history and his ass wasn't going anywhere until he brought them up to at least B's. He was way too smart to be doing so poorly in those subjects, and I had a suspicion it was due to the fact that he had his first girlfriend, a seventh grader named Jessica.

Needless to say, his father and I weren't too excited about the new development.

Seth and Liam, well, their room was just a disaster, and so it was no fishing for them or anything else until things were tucked away where they belonged. This new decree had been enacted a week ago and not a dent had been made in the chaos in which they called a bedroom. Their father would have their tales when he got home.

"Michael!"

"I heard you, Ma. I'm going."

My eldest pulled himself up off the couch, the self-diagnosed depression he'd been in evident on his adolescent face.

"If you heard me then why didn't you do as I asked?"

"Jeez, Mom. Get off my case. I'm going, aren't I?"

"Michael Jude Black, watch your attitude."

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled from down the hallway. "You don't know how it feels mom. It's not fair that I'm grounded and can't talk to my friends."

"To Jessica, you mean," I said under my breath.

"Hey, brats! Mom says come eat," he screamed at the closed door. Something thudded against the solid wood and then two rounds of peeling laughter could be heard with just a slight muffle. God only knew what they were doing in there. Not what they were supposed to be doing, that was for sure.

Mike came tearing back down the hallway and flounced back onto the hole he'd been wearing in the leather couch, full on sulk mode continued.

"Despite what you believe, son, your father and I want what's best for you. We aren't like some of the other parents your friends have who don't seem to take an interest in their lives."

"Who aren't stalkers, you mean."

"Just because we monitor your Facebook and Instagram doesn't make us stalkers, Mike. It means that we want to know what you have going on. Who your friends are. What you talk about. Not to mention all of the dangerous people lurking on the internet –"

"Come on, Mom. I'm not a kid. I know to be careful."

"That may be. It' still our job to make sure you're not getting into anything you shouldn't be."

"Whatever," Mike mumbled, and I could almost hear the eyeroll in his tone of voice. Sighing, I glanced at the clock on the microwave, counting the minutes until Jake got home.


	5. Chapter 5

This is an article found online featuring reported events that have appeared in national news. PLEASE READ CAREFULLY. I will have the site in which I found the information on my profile page for your consideration. Please, read and draw your own conclusions.

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><p>October 25, 2013<p>

**Christianity Under Attack in America**

**By** **Janet Levy**

According to information released at a May 9, 2013 press conference by the families of Navy SEALs killed in an August 2011 helicopter shoot-down in Afghanistan, "military brass prohibited any mention of a Judeo-Christian G-d" and "invited a Muslim cleric to the funeral for the fallen Navy SEAL Team VI heroes who disparaged in Arabic the memory of these servicemen by damning them as infidels to Allah."

The accusations arose over a "ramp ceremony" held at Bagram Airfield in Afghanistan as flag-draped caskets of the dead soldiers were loaded onto a plane for transport back to the United States. The shocking words of the Muslim cleric, revealed in later translations, were spoken at a memorial service meant to honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. They were yet another example of the abject disrespect of Christians and Christianity endemic to the Muslim world.

Here at home, Christianity and Christian religious practices are also under attack, but in more subtle ways and under a misinterpretation of the principle of freedom of religion. In the United States, that legal doctrine is cited to marginalize Christian prayer and traditions, while, at the same time, dramatically accommodating and even expanding Muslim religious practices. Myriad examples exist.

During the recent government shutdown, Catholic priests were warned that they could be arrested for celebrating Mass, even if performed on a voluntary basis. Under Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel's direction and determination was that priests do not "contribute to the morale" and "well-being" of military personnel." Thus, offering of the sacraments was prohibited and the Eucharist placed under lock and key.

Levy, Janet. "Christianity Under Attack in America." _American Thinker. _25 October 2013.

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><p><strong>Thoughts on this one? The link for the entire article is on my profile so you can discern for yourself.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Three

"Seth, get up from under the table," Jacob told our youngest, who happened to be fishing for a dropped crayon that had rolled off he linoleum –lined table, lost into the cracks beneath the booth we'd gathered around for a family dinner out at our favorite place.

As a parent, I was thankful when a restaurant offered some type of entertainment for little ones to keep them occupied while their meals were being prepared, but sometimes those frail little crayons were more hassle than they're worth. Half the time they'd break half way through a masterpiece one of my kids insisted it would've been the next great work of art. Either that or you have to play mediator between the crayon bucket, because all colors are not divided equally, and someone will undoubtedly end up with the color that someone else just has to have. That was a war waiting to happen, especially in the Black household.

Sometimes I second guessed my ban of electronics at family meals.

"Today was a good homily," Jake said, finally having enough of Seth bumping the table from beneath in search of his lost crayon. He pulled our son up by the collar of his pressed shirt.

"Hey, my crayon!"

"You have plenty on the table in front of you."

"Not that one!" Seth huffed, crossing his arms adorably over his chest and sticking his lip out a mile. I bit back a smile in response.

"Seth, enough. Use another color."

Grunting, Seth gave his father his back, ignoring him in a semi-fit as most seven year olds do. At that age, Jake probably would have been sterner with Mike or Liam, but Seth was our baby. He got away with murder, as the other two boys could attest to.

Liam at eleven was our quiet one, more reserved yet so smart that he amazed me half the time. He spent most of his free time reading and had a mind that could take apart any mechanical object and put it back together again. Many times I'd caught him doing just that, having parts of my toaster oven or a iPod docking station laid out in organized rows on the ground in order of disassembly. I just knew one day he'd be at MIT or working for NASA, building teleporters or some other new-age gadget.

Mike was our oldest at thirteen, and boy did he have the attitude to match. I swear at one point I knew that little boy inside of him. I'd even cleaned his butt a time or two, and kissed all his boo-boos away. Now, he seemed like a person possessed by a spoiled-rotten, whiney brat that was determined to turn my hair gray. And to top it off, to make that cherry really ripe on top, he seemed to only act that way with me. When Jake was home, it was "yes, sir" and "no, sir." Long gone was the respect he'd held for _me, _however.

At one point, I was hopeful whatever demon held my angel captive would let him go someday. I was told the one that held me at bay had set parole right around the age of sixteen.

God, it'd be a long three years.

Jake looked at me expectantly, awaiting a response to his comment. "Yes, Mass was good today. I was surprised Father Perry brought that topic up, though. So many people seem to be anti-guns lately. I guess a little fear is understandable with everything that's been going on lately."

"That's because they buy into the hype the media keeps feeding us. That the sickness lies in the weapon not the person controlling it."

"I saw a post of Facebook the other day that made me laugh. It said something like, 'what if I stabbed myself in the eye with a fork? Would you outlaw those, too?" I laughed, picturing the irate man that went along with the statement, comically furious with a fork grasped tightly in his fist.

"It's not funny, Bella. That's the logic our government officials are taking on. It's ridiculous. Soon they'll be attacking law-abiding, gun-owning citizens like myself, thinking that'll fix everything."

"Calm down, Jake." I glanced around the room at his heated tone. A few of the patrons were eying our table curiously. "Not everyone here agrees with your point of view."

"So what! This is America, isn't it? I can say what I feel without the fear of prosecution."

"Yes, but not at the dinner table, okay?" I smiled at him, trying to diffuse his rapidly increasing passion on the subject. Jake took a deep breath and gave me a tight smile.

"Of course, babe. You're right I'm sorry."

"I'm what?" I held my hand out to my ear, wanting to hear it again.

"You're gorgeous." He smiled, leaning into me.

"That's right." Our lips met and I could feel his mouth still turned up at the corners.

"Ew, gross!"

"Yeah, mom. Can't you wait to molest Dad later?"

Yeah, definitely thinking the mind-consuming electronics should be reconsidered.


	7. Chapter 7

For those of you who are unaware, Duck Dynasty is a highly popular reality show on A&E based on a family in Louisiana. They are characterized as rednecks, hunt as a way of life, fun loving, and trouble finding family. They're also God-Fearing, Christian people who pray at the end of every episode and give thanks to God for their many blessings in life. For this, the network and the family have been reportedly under heat from many groups opposing to the "forced celebration of Christian values to the public.""Have I told you how much I love you today?" Jacob's hand traveled down my bare back, sending another round of lust swimming through my already sated body. The pair of us lay nude in our bed, enjoying the quiet of the night in each other's arms. I lived for moments like this.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Four<span>

"Have I told you how much I love you today?" Jacob's hand traveled down my bare back, sending another round of lust swimming through my already sated body. The pair of us lay nude in our bed, enjoying the quiet of the night in each other's arms. I lived for moments like this.

"I think you showed me how much you loved me," I said with a slight stretch, enjoying the way my overheated muscles crooned in happiness and contentment. Jake laughed, pulling me closer into him. My head rested onto his chest and I kissed the smooth, taut skin there. For a thirty five year old man, my husband had maintained his Adonis-like physique he'd obtained in military boot camp when he was eighteen. I was a lucky girl, I could admit. He never failed to raise my desire to a boiling point.

"Did you see the news today?" His tone turned somber and I internally groaned. I wondered when he'd bring it up.

"Didn't have to. I saw it all over Facebook."

"I knew it was going to come down to this. Our culture has been heading this way for a while now."

"Maybe A&E had a point?" Jake sat up from bed, the covers falling off of his chest, glaring at me. "Hold up, cowboy. I'm not saying that I agree with why they banned Phil. I'm just saying that they have a right to decide how to run their own program."

"Bella, it's not about that. It's about the inequality of freedom of speech. It's been evident for a while now that speaking out against social norms leads to ostracization and persecution by the leftist media."

I sighed, knowing that I had to settle in for a long and heated debate.

"Some of the stuff he said was pretty tasteless, to be honest, Jake. Did you read the article?"

"Yes, I did. I didn't see anything that I didn't agree with."

"Maybe, but that's you. Others were probably offended."

Jake got up from the bed and slammed his boxers back over his bare ass. I couldn't help but ogling him, even with the tension rolling off his shoulders.

"I've been offended plenty of times by what's put on TV and radio. The fact that I heard my seven year old son singing about how chains and whips excite him wasn't something I got over quickly." I snorted, remembering how livid Jake had been at hearing one of our kids reciting the Rhianna song. We decided to limit their music at that time, much to the dismay of our offspring once they got a little older. Jake glared at me again but I saw the twitch of his mouth. Once we'd both calmed down, we couldn't help but laugh at the way Liam had been shaking his hips as he sung it. It'd been cute until he got to the part about the smell of sex.

Yeah, not so hot out of the mouths of babes.

"Jacob, come here." I sat up on the edge of the bed, letting the bed sheets fall off my upper body. I saw my husband's eyes darken and take a step closer to me, my goal achieved. I took his hand and drew him toward the edge of the bed. "I love how passionate you are about your beliefs; how in tune you are with the man you want to be. It makes you incredibly sexy."

After a while, we both came up for air. Holding my husband once again, I felt my mind begin to drift off into the beginnings of sleep, the gentle brush of his fingertips along my upper arm lulling me further.

"I want you to make me a promise," he said, pulling me out of my fog. I looked up at him to see him watching me intently. "If anything . . . happens . . . to where I can't be there . . . "

"Jake, stop."

"No, listen. This is important. There's writing on the wall, Bella. I'm scared for our security."

"Baby, what happens will happen. We can't change it."

"No, but we can be prepared. Listen, there's a buddy of mine from my Marine days. Edward Masen. He owns a cabin up in Okanogan-Wenatchee."

"Is he one of those dooms dayers?" I asked with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. He didn't even crack a smile. I frowned at the seriousness of his expression.

"I just want you to know he's offered it up to me, to us, if something were to happen and we needed a place to go."


End file.
